


My Piece

by Boondogle (Blearybell)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ABO, M/M, alpha!cas, omega!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blearybell/pseuds/Boondogle
Summary: Dean is lost in the world of his work rather than love. Leaving him rather hallow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in forever, but I thought I'd finally dig through my unfinished short pieces and finish those before I start something new.

Dean was never much for the holidays. It brought the tired questions every single omega faces from just about every family member in mom’s address book. Living alone on the other end of the country Dean spent most of his days steeped in statistics and projections for the upcoming New Year. And he liked it that way, work was his escape. The driving force that pushed him through every hard lined passage in life.

Most years since he’d graduated college were spent avoiding Christmas in the office. Schematics of projected numbers give him better company than the sterile emptiness of his apartment. Most days he was caught asking, who was this person who lived here? But his office gave refuge, there’s always work to be done, asses to kiss, glass ceilings to crush. But this year he couldn’t avoid it, Sammy’s getting married, he chose his December bride: Jess. Shockingly just as alpha as his forest monster of a brother. Dean has never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, but if he had to go off the molasses in his voice every time he dropped the name Jess (which might as well have been every other word) Dean knew he loved her. They had met in undergrad at Stanford, when Dean had long since moved on to his MBA at George Washington. Apparently Sam has been chasing the marriage game for near a decade till Jess finally gave in and decided she’d allow him to make it official. Which probably had something to do with the news of another impending Winchester coming into the world.

A little boy, Dean had of course sent his well wishes and a heap of baby clothes the instant his mom gave him an elated call. Which hammered up the same old itinerary of questions. Dean knows his mother means well, she wants him happy and he is. He loves the fact he doesn’t have to check in if he’s off to the bar, or the gym. There isn’t some nag of an alpha telling him what he should be as an omega. There’s Dean, who can do what he wants. Finding a mate might have been on the agenda once a blue moon ago, but he’s thirty five near past his so-called prime and the lovely picture in his head of a something more was age faded and chewed at the edges. He was ready to throw it in the fire all together.

***

Jess was the picture of beauty, glowing and full of the love Sam and her have made into the world. Something about a pregnant omega hit his heart with cold shards, often he got to avoid the baby drama at the office because he’s the boss and can excuse himself to a meeting with the higher ups. Yet seeing her blossom in the warmth of his brother’s home, made Dean green with envy. Something strong and parental always surged within him, a nephew will just have to fill that gap. Truth is, Dean wants everything. A mate, family, things only those in his situation settle to get. Not that Dean thinks for a minute Jess is settling, but Dean is a different case. His kind are surrogate fodder, egg donors, and whatever lowly feminine task maker only your most barbaric of nightmares could fulfill. Dean would rather live a life of unbroken solitude than be the womb for a pup he could never keep.

The sky was dull, and quiet papery flakes wisped around the road as he pulled up to the chain department store that held their registry. Dean felt cheap for only seeking out a waffle iron, but it was all that was left of the decimated list. A modern acoustic rendition of jingle bells was piped in through old speakers as Dean tried to figure out why home appliances are an inch over from the bedding and bath section.

The store was empty for the season, he’d passed a gaggle of old women chirping about dish sets on his way in. And a rather tired looking father with an infant dangling from his chest and an army of gift bags laced in each hand. But as for other patrons it was sparse, employees were stationed at every turn. Bored, on the ready for when the clock finally releases them. Like many box stores this one had an almost identical layout to the one he frequents back home. Sweeping aisle after aisle, something alluring kept distracting Dean. Fresh, piney, it spread into a warmth at the base of his stomach.

_Home._

It made Dean feel at home. Yet nothing his muddled mind can recall this familiar tingle. Perhaps it has just been a long time since Dean has felt at home with himself. Oh, how much of a sad sack is he, where some stupid candle sample drowning his senses can lull him such comfort? Following the parade in his gut Dean finds himself in front of a rack of silly faced pillows. Surrounded in a maze of mattresses, and freshly fluffed display bedding a masculine hand reaches from the other side of the rack tumbling a mass of pillows to the cold ground. Only to be met with a wide set of glacial eyes. He just knew, this was it.

The world opened up and swallowed him whole, and he crumbled along with the earth.

They both simultaneously gave a deep swallow. Dean stared back at the alpha standing across from him. Wearing a messy cap of dark hair, his cheeks were still rosy from the cold. He looked slightly older than Dean, and just as jaded from bureaucracy if his well-fitting suit was anything to go by, but his scent was perfect. One for mind over matter Dean snapped out of his stupor and tried to realize he might, or probably is already married. And he can smell it on him, another person, someone close who can tuck their head under his chin and nuzzle.

It has happened so many times before in the grand scheme of history. Great epics have fallen from authors over the ages about an alpha trapped into wedlock for a pup, and then finding a delicate omega just made for them. But Dean wasn’t going to be one of those, he’s never been a home maker and he sure as hell isn’t going to destroy one. Dean, much like every opportunity he’s crushed in his life ducked away while the alpha, his alpha stood in a blank stupor across from him.

Shockingly he wasn’t pursued, the guy probably thought better of the situation and bailed as soon as the fog of mate scent had cleared. Oh, and it hurt. It took every atomized piece of effort for his feet to clip away down the linoleum. But it is for the best he never learn a name. One piece of information could snowball into an entire novel of conversations. And Dean would never forgive himself if he was the cause of something drastic.

****

Out of place and mostly out of mind, Dean fringed the edges of what he supposes is good company. Most of the wedding party he had to be subjected to were Sam’s colleagues, shiny toed lawyers who saw him as the perfect token to be tamed. He wasn’t interested, not by any means of the word. Some were a blatant set up, others he could tell were acting of their own accord. At the rehearsal dinner one of the more frisky ones had set his hand on Dean’s thigh in a daringly bold move that did nothing to impress. Amidst the silent clatter and satisfied hums around the table Dean scraped his chair from beneath him and made a quiet run for the restaurant’s covered balcony.

Tipping back what was left of his scotch on the rocks Dean thumbed the rim of the glass. “You can call off your dogs Cupid, I’m not in the market.” He said to the looming presence behind him.

Sam stepped beside him and let out a deep sigh. “It’s not really my doing. Mom let the word slip.”

They both stood in the lighted warm glow of Christmas lights, as snow fell in thick bundles. “You seem really sour this time around, you okay?”

“I’m done waiting.” Dean said.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“I’m done, I found them…Or him.” He said staring down his empty glass.

“I guess that solves that then. When does mom get to meet him?” Sam joked. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I left him.”

“Dean…why?”

“Life.” He sighed. Dean didn’t really want to complain to his brother the night before his own wedding. It would be out of taste, but also just not the right thing to tell your brother. He’s long since accepted he’s going to be the office ice queen, and he’s fine with it. It puts a little fear in those daring to cross him.

“That’s bullshit.” There has never been a moment where Dean had wanted ear plugs and a full bottle of whiskey. Quiet was the one place no soul could reach him, especially when you mix the high cheeked cheerfulness only uncle Jack could bring you.

“He’s already got a mate. So I let it go.” Dean admitted.

“Wow… I-I’m really sorry to hear that.” Sam said, looking pained.

“Why should you be? It’s my stupid luck.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “You deserve to be happy Dean.”

Dean couldn’t look at Sam, not for all the money in the world. What would make him think Dean’s not happy? Not that he really is, but what has he done wrong to show he isn’t? All he could really ask out of this life is a comfortable existence.

“Give Jess my best, I’m going to bed.” He patted Sam on the shoulder before toeing back to the table for his coat.

The rest of the wedding dripped by like a lone candle on a pulpit till there was nothing but a nub. Granted, it was beautiful white roses, and silver bells were hung on the pews. Jess, dressed in pearls kissed his brother like she’d just fallen in love with him, after Sam had wept through his vows. It left Dean with a tepid hollow in his heart. Of course he was happy, ecstatic even, yet he couldn’t get that lightning like blue out of his rattled head.

****

A day or two came to pass, Sam was on his honey moon while Dean drowned himself in champagne. He really should have taken to the east already and on his way back to the office. But what was the rush, he took two weeks off he might as well wallow in his hotel suite where somebody else cleans up his messes. Down in the hotel restaurant, he was in the middle of a vegetarian omelet when his heart began to bleed, that scent had returned, along with the man wearing a similarly anguished look. It might have been a tad cruel to jump away without speaking so much of a word. But he could still smell that other person on him. It was strong, citrusy. So instead of talking it over like an adult, Dean grabbed a book from his pocket and decided to let the words in his mind rot.

“Perhaps we should have a talk.” Said a rather jagged voice.

Again that warmth swirled in his stomach, he didn’t know this man yet he felt like family. Dean, with his eyes glassy from the night before couldn’t bear to look at him. Dean didn’t want to get used to the sight of this strange alpha, as far as he was concerned Dean wanted to forget he ever existed.

“I’m not sure there’s much to talk about.” Dean made plain. “Go home, love your wife.”

He stood, slumped. As if this bozo had any right to be disappointed. “I have no intentions…”

Like salt to a wound, Dean stung at his words. He shouldn’t, but his alpha won’t fight for him. “May I at least make your acquaintance?” He said seeming distraught.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m very aware of that. But if nothing, your friendship is enough.”

Dean should be insulted, he should be snarling and challenging the rightfulness of his union. But this isn’t 1550, and Dean isn’t some wanton romance heroin. He’s a business man here on family matters. With a good bit of reluctance, Dean waves a hand to the empty seat in front of him.

“Castiel.” He said reaching out for a hand shake. A stream of electricity raced through Dean as he gave ‘Castiel’ the limpest hand the business world will ever come to know. The air though silent spoke entire novels, it was thick with things that Dean nor Casitel will never admit.

“Dean.”

“I have to say I didn’t’ know you could exist, for that I’m sorry.” Castiel admitted.

“There’s nothing to really be sorry about. I live a life that wouldn’t really suit you, or any alpha really. So honestly I think you dodged a bullet with this one.” Dean struck himself by surprise.

“I wouldn’t say that... you’re a very handsome man Dean.”

He could reciprocate. The doors on both of their worlds could be blown open, blasted to bits. But the gold band wrapped around Castiel’s finger brings him to a pause.

“Looks aren’t everything.”

“No,” Castiel admits. “But it makes me wonder if things were different…”

Dean held out a hand in halt. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

“Of course.” Castiel said, “Perhaps…what is it you do for a living?”

That got the ball slightly rolling. Dean found out Castiel works as a ceramic artist where the cathartic pleasure of clay sweeps him away most days. Here for a friends primer gallery Dean finds himself colored impressed to see he’s not the pretentious ‘artistic’ type. He just likes to make things, and if they give people the rise of emotion it’s all he needs.

“I guess, I’m the boring one.” Dean says into his now cold cup of coffee. “Anyway maybe you should give my boss a call he’s been wanting to commission a few charity pieces.” Making up for some nasty PR ought to give Dean some more promotion points.

“Are you sure that’s alright?”

“You’re not going to be seeing me…” Dean waves off with a little gush of sadness. “In the biz we call this networking, you get your name a little farther off the ground and make a butt load of cash while doing it.”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.” Castiel said gawking at his laminated business card with Adler’s extension scribbled on the back.

“Think of it as the one thing I can do for you.” Dean smiled.

****

The night of the unveil Dean stood in his obligatory self-pity corner doing his best to avoid any contact with the artist or his entourage. All he needed to know was on his hand firmly set was a wedding band, and he got a good gimmer of it as Castiel let the curtain fall. His pieces were subtle, yet large. In the shape of humanoid figures the three pieces almost seemed to dance during the first two while the last looked rather tragic. Two figures were embraced while a third one sat patiently, knees hanging off of the edge of their platform. Dean swirled the champagne in his glass, he and that amorphous blob have too much in common.

“You must be the inspiration.” A blonde beta in a tight black dress said to Dean.

“I inspire nothing.” Dean downed his drink.

“Castiel has so much to say about you.” She smiled.

“And how would you know that.” Dean tipped his brow. “I’m that purple thing keeping you away from him.” She points to the two figures woven together. “Amelia, nice to finally meet you.”

Dean gave a bitter laugh. “You really have nothing to fear.”

“Oh, I know. You’ve avoided my husband every chance, for that I thank you.” She said with sincerity. Dean had ignored every social call, invitation to lunch, and consultation meeting. Friendship really wasn’t much of an option for Dean, he could barely hold himself in place when they’d left each other at the hotel. His life was already ruined, there was no point in creating a tsunami when he can live contently on his mangled lake shore.

“He wants to thank you too. Castiel will never admit he’s giving everything up by staying with me, I see the conflict in his eyes every time...” Amelia says with an uneasy calm.

Dean turned to her with a light in his eyes. “If I could, I’d have never walked into that store. You deserve him so much more, you have to remind him of that every day.”

“That’s the thing about relationships… you shouldn’t have to do that every single day. When he told me about you I knew it was the end. He promised me that nothing had ever happened between you two and I believe him. But this is making all of us miserable.” Amelia wiggled off her wedding band and clenched it into Dean’s hand. “He’ll never do this himself, he’s too stubborn for that. He’ll have papers in his hands Monday, but for now I’ll let him believe this lie.”

Stunned, Dean felt the cold weight in his hand barely there, yet it dragged on him like a brick. Dean watched their evening twinkle by with the knowledge that the look in Amelia’s eyes were a good bye.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are never going to be enabled on any of my works, they will be moderated but never approved despite positive or negative feedback.
> 
> As a side note, none of these works will be intended for future editing beyond a few spacing errors, and maybe to add or delete some author's notes. So I ask, please refrain from sending me grammatical corrections or anything of the sort. I'm just a busy science student who does this for some good ol' fashioned stress relief.


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